Dragon Empress

Chapter 35

Resentment had festered in Keriya since she’d failed her test. The rotting remnants of her trust in Shivnath had become easy breeding grounds for anger. Yet now, sprouting from the c*****e like bloodblossom, empathy bloomed in her heart.

“I’m going to free her,” Keriya declared.

“How will you do that without your powers?” asked Nordrion. “None of us are able to even so much as sense your soul.”

Valerion stepped forward, wings aflutter. “Necrovar cheats the system. We could do the same.”

“Ten ages, and your irrational temper has not cooled,” said Tolbrayth, the oldest living dragon. His graying scales rippled silver as he lowered his head. “When will you learn, Valerion, that you cannot cheat the Shadow?”

“At least I’m doing something to save this world,” Valerion snapped. “Stop hiding in the shadows like cowards and join this war, as you should have done ten ages ago!”

“Cowardice has nothing to do with it,” said Nordrion. Keriya was surprised to hear the faintest hint of sharpness in his tone. “We are bound to the will of our ruler, and we cannot break free. Do you think we do not want to fight? Do you think we do not wish to see the end of the war that nearly destroyed our kin, that still to this day threatens our extinction?”

It was the first time she’d heard Nordrion speak of wanting in such an abstract way. Dragons could want basic things—food and water and sunlight, for example, to power life functions—but the concept of desire was unfathomable to them.

“Valemagic has stripped us of emotion and freedom. Our only hope of salvation lies in the end of a war we are prevented from joining.” Nordrion pinned Keriya with an unblinking gaze. “Our only hope lies in you.”

Keriya wanted to help. She wanted to free the dragons. She wanted a peaceful future for the dracklings who would hatch from the hidden eggs.

“I’ll find a way,” she said. “I’ll regain my powers.”

“Consider your actions before you choose your path,” said Tolbrayth. “Remember, she who fights too long against demons becomes one herself.”

A growl rumbled in Valerion’s chest. Keriya’s throat tightened painfully, but she straightened her back, raised her chin, and stood tall before the Eminarchs. Darkness stirred within her, but she could rise above it.

She had to.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO“Always count the cost.”

~ Syrionese Proverb

Keriya sat at rigid attention in the lavishly appointed palace conference room. Golden drapes hung on windows and priceless art gleamed on marble plinths. Across from her were Alisa Belbreeze and Tethryn Indrossae. Danisan stood at the head of the polished mahogany table, a dour mediator.

“Our esquires have corrected the wording on the contracts,” said Belbreeze, sliding a sheaf of papers toward Keriya, and an identical one toward the Syrionese shapeshifter.

Keriya accepted the pages but didn’t look at the contract. She couldn’t read modern Allentrian fluently, but she knew the general terms.

One life in exchange for one army.

“This looks to be in order,” Tethryn said after they’d perused their copy. “I have no further objections. We can sign today—now, if all parties are willing.”

“Fine,” Keriya said dully. Noticing Belbreeze’s blistering glare, she added, “It’s my honor to work with you, Ambassador Indrossae.”

“No need for such formalities anymore, Keriya. Please, call me Tethryn. After all, we are partners not only in war, but in politics and life, as well.”

“Not yet,” growled Danisan. He stalked to Keriya’s side and snatched her copy of the marriage contract. “Not until you both sign. And our party has not reviewed the newest round of revisions.”

Tethryn, who’d taken human form for today’s meeting, offered Danisan a tight smile. As Keriya watched, their pale flesh rippled and morphed, changing into the sleek, pearly scales of an elf. Fangs elongated in their mouth as they said, “By all means, review the contract. I want Keriya to be happy.”

Happiness seemed a distant memory. Keriya had no magic, and she was lying about that to her future spouse.

A spouse who happens to represent one of the most powerful nations in the world.

If they discovered her deceit—as they surely soon would—Keriya shuddered to think what would happen. Would they be angry enough to withdraw support? Angry enough to turn on Allentria?

“Paragraph 6.E. must be rewritten,” said Danisan. “Keriya will not sign until Syrionese reinforcements arrive on Allentria’s shores.”

“Ambassador, would you consent to this rewording?” asked Belbreeze.

Tethryn nodded. “Given the threat of darksalm, I believe it is fair. We will wait, then. Once I confirm these plans with my people, we can ready our troops for arrival in a manner of days.”

The meeting adjourned with disturbing abruptness. Danisan escorted Tethryn to the teleportal, and Belbreeze bustled off to her next appointment without so much as a glance in Keriya’s direction.

She let out a long, slow breath once she was alone. Rising from her cushioned chair, she took a moment to compose herself. She wasn’t sure how she felt—in fact, she didn’t feel anything. Numbness clouded her mind. Like her soul, her emotions felt blocked.

When she left the conference room, she found Roxanne waiting for her in the corridor. “How’d it go?”

Keriya lifted a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “We’ll have ten-thousand more troops in a week.”

“Not really what I was asking,” Roxanne said dryly. “But good, I guess.”

Was it good? Keriya didn’t want to import ten-thousand creatures to die in a war that she could have fought and ended single-handedly.

The barest suggestion of anger fluttered beneath her detachment.

“I heard back from Taeleia during your meeting,” Roxanne added. “She’d like to meet with you. The sooner the better.”

“You think she’ll be able to help me when the Eminarchs themselves couldn’t do anything?”

“I don’t know what to think,” said Roxanne, taking her arm and steering her toward the central stairwell, “but I know we have to try everything.”

Keriya was desperate—or she would have been, if she hadn’t been a numb, empty lump—so she followed Roxanne up to the western wing of the personal quarters floor, where Taeleia’s room was situated.

“Drachrheenar,” the lumina greeted her when she arrived. “Please, come in. Sit down.”

Sunlight filtered through gauzy window curtains, illuminating a large chamber. Wooden shelves lined the walls, packed with books, potion bottles, and all sorts of knickknacks. Keriya took the same chair she’d sat in the last time she’d come begging for help. Taeleia drew a second chair from the paper-strewn table and sat close, face to face with Keriya. Roxanne leaned against a nearby window frame, folding her arms and watching the proceedings like a mother hen.

Taeleia sat in silence so long that it passed awkward and became unnerving. Her overlarge silver eyes roamed Keriya, drinking in every imperfection.

Eventually, the elf said, “May I ask permission to touch you?”

“Have at it.”

Taeleia raised her one good arm. Her long, slender fingers floated over Keriya’s hands, up her arms, down her chest to hover over her heart. She took Keriya’s pulse, checked Keriya’s eyes, even asked to peer into Keriya’s throat.

“Hmm.” Taeleia frowned. “Have you noticed anything amiss with your body since the block was placed on your soul? Sleeplessness, loss of appetite, abnormal menstruation?”

“Yes to all,” said Keriya.

Taeleia had no eyebrows, but her smooth, scaled brow ridges rose.

“That’s probably more because of depression than anything else,” Keriya admitted. “Kind of hard not to feel hopeless at the moment. Lack of sleep and eating is nothing new.”

“But the abnormal menstruation is?”

“I don’t know. What does it matter? My physical health is not the problem.”

“Your body is the conduit through which you wield your magic,” said Taeleia. “A sickening of the body can have disastrous consequences on one’s magicsource.”

“I wasn’t sick before Shivnath did this to me.”

As soon as she said the words, Keriya knew they were untrue. Her physical health had always been volatile—usually it depended on the state of her mental health. Whenever her mind suffered, so did the rest of her.

“Tell me about your bleeding,” said Taeleia. “Has it been heavier since the magical block was placed on you? Reduced?”

“Uh . . .” Keriya paused. “Actually, I haven’t had a cycle in a while.”

The elf leaned forward in her chair. “I don’t wish to pry into your personal affairs, but do you have reason to believe you might be pregnant?”

Heat scorched Keriya’s cheeks, flooding down into her chest. “How would I know if I was?”

She thought she saw a tiny smile flicker on Taeleia’s lips. “You might not know at all, if it’s early in the pregnancy, although it’s typically marked by increased nausea in the mornings. We could summon a lifemagic mage to confirm it for us. When was your last menstrual cycle?”

Keriya stared at her lap, calculating in silence. She knew Taeleia was watching her, judging her. She could feel the weight of Roxanne’s attention pushing at her side.

“A long time ago,” she said at last.

Charged energy filled the room. Roxanne put her hands to her mouth. Taeleia’s eyes sparkled. Before either of them could speak, Keriya added, “Almost two years.”

The energy dissipated at once. Now the air felt thin, brittle.

“I guess the last time was in Year 610, right before Necrovar assaulted Noryk. I remember because that’s the morning I spoke to the Eminarchs, and I was nervous about dressing up in white.”

“And you didn’t think it strange that your cycles stopped?” said Roxanne. “You didn’t think something might be wrong?”

“I was a little preoccupied with fighting a war, thwarting an invasion, losing Sethildras, planning a military campaign, and trying to keep Necrovar from taking over the gods-damned world.”

Roxanne snorted. “I suppose those are good excuses, as far as excuses go.”

Taeleia didn’t share in their moment of dark humor. “Your cycles ended right around the time you inherited Kraken’s power.”

Keriya nodded.

“Being host to godly magic might have changed you. If it’s been this long since you had a normal cycle, it’s possible you never will again. You may be unable to bear children.”

“Oh, Belbreeze will be thrilled to hear that.” Though her stomach dropped at the thought of admitting this new truth, Keriya couldn’t deny she was relieved. There were no contractual provisions about providing heirs to her bloodline, but that part of the marriage arrangement had been heavily implied.

Yet this realization dragged a hundred others behind it. No possibility of heirs might mean no alliance. No alliance might mean disaster for Allentria. If Keriya couldn’t wield, and was unable to produce an heir who could, then who would kill Necrovar?

She flinched out of her thought spiral when Roxanne placed a hand on her arm.

“I’m fine,” she said preemptively.

“It’s alright if you’re not,” Roxanne returned in a gentle voice, one she reserved for only the most somber occasions. It prickled at Keriya. She didn’t want to be pitied, not for this.

“Right now I just want to know if there’s any way to get my magic back.” She looked at Taeleia. “Anything you can do at all?”

“Against an enchantment of this magnitude, I’m afraid not,” said the elf.

Keriya’s fingers spasmed, clenching and unclenching in her lap. She stood abruptly and cleared her throat. “Very well. Thank you for your time and counsel, Lumina Taeleia.”

Without waiting for a response, she swept from the room.

Roxanne’s padded footsteps followed her down the hall. Part of her wanted to shout at Roxanne and send her away, but a larger part of her didn’t want to be alone. Perhaps Roxanne sensed this, for she sped up and slipped her arm around Keriya’s.

Keriya drifted in a daze until she found herself on the ground floor, in the colonnaded gallery that led to the palace’ back entrance. She descended the flagstone steps where she’d been erroneously presented as the Master of Valemagic and approached the hedge labyrinth.